


A Marriage of Inconvenience

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Bondage, Season 2, Secret Marriage, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 08:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: ‘Wanna get a divorce?’





	A Marriage of Inconvenience

**Author's Note:**

> For Intronerd - with thanks for the suggestion!

 

 

Today she was going to have that talk. Definitely. She was going to march into Kent’s office and say...

‘Wanna get a divorce?’

He looked past her, through the open door.

‘There’s nobody out there,’ Selina said. ‘I checked. I’m not a complete fucking moron.’

Kent’s expression suggested that he wasn’t convinced, but what he said was, ‘Perhaps it would be wise to shut the door, nonetheless.’

She kicked it shut, perversely pleased at his little flinch.

‘I’m surprised you haven’t sought to institute proceedings previously. We only require a separation of six months and it’s been nearly two and a half years.’

Selina snorted. ‘How would that look, I marry some guy I’ve known for three months and divorce him after six?’

Kent thought about it. ‘Like a middle-aged Britney Spears.’

‘It’d look like a desperate attempt to avoid a scandal.’

Kent shrugged. ‘It was.’

‘Yeah, which is why it can’t look like that.’ She leaned on his desk. ‘And I forgot.’

‘You forgot you were married?’

‘I’ve had a lot on my mind!’ she snapped.

‘Evidently,’ Kent said. ‘Although looking at your “achievements” since the election I must concede you appear to have never had a quiet moment in which to discreetly divorce me.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘You coulda done it.’

‘Without coordinating it with you? That would have been wildly irresponsible,’ he said. ‘Beside which, the money was helpful.’

Selina narrowed her eyes. ‘Money?’

‘You pay me a stipend,’ he said.

‘What? The fuck I do! Do I?’

Kent sat back in his chair. ‘Certainly. Why else would I participate in this charade?’

‘I guess loyalty would be out of the question,’ she sneered.

Kent raised an eyebrow. ‘Loyalty is similar to respect; it needs to be earned.’

Selina gritted to her teeth. ‘Are we doing this or not?’

‘Divorcing?’ Kent drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘Certainly. Although you are aware that you no longer needed my permission after we had been married, and separated, for a year.’

‘Doesn’t mean you won’t make it difficult if the mood takes you,’ Selina said. ‘I need you to not make it difficult.’

Kent crossed his legs. ‘I don’t have “moods,” as I believe you know. I base my decisions on logic and reason.’

She tapped her foot on the floor. ‘You wanna aim your “logic and reason” at the question that I asked you?’

He held up his hands. ‘I certainly won’t interfere if you wish to go ahead.

‘Great.’ Selina walked to the door. Then she turned back. ‘I’m paying you a stipend.’

‘Yes,’ Kent agreed.

She cocked her head. ‘Is it significant?’

‘I’m not returning the money,’ he said flatly. ‘We both know that for someone of your personal wealth it wasn’t significant. You evidently didn’t even realise.’

‘That’s not the point!’ Selina folded her arms. ‘Are you dating?’

Kent stared at her. ‘This conversation appears to be careening wildly from topic to topic.’

‘Are you? You must’ve dated since you left.’

Kent picked up a pencil from his desk and flicked it between his fingers. ‘I have other matters occupying my time. I know that you were dating last year. There was talk, very briefly, of an engagement. I assume that you would have settled our arrangement before moving forward.’

Selina groaned. ‘Yeah, well. Then I lost the kid. He didn’t much appreciate being told we had to get married. Anyone who can’t commit to my career isn’t worth my time.’

Kent’s expression softened. ‘You lost another child?’

She looked away. ‘Yeah. Well. Shit happens. It’s not even rare.’

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. ‘Miss Brookheimer…’

‘Yeah,’ Selina said. ‘Amy jumped on the baby grenade when the press got wind.’

Kent nodded. ‘Fortunate.’

Selina put her hand on her hip. ‘She knows how to be loyal.’

‘I’m struggling to follow your train of thought.’

‘Spousal support,’ Selina said. ‘You know, what they used to call alimony.’

His brows drew together. ‘You’re surely not asking me to pay you?’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘Who’s paying who in this sham marriage?’

‘Whom,’ Kent said. He tapped the pencil on the edge of the desk. ‘Have your lawyer draw up the paperwork and an offer.’

She laughed derisively. ‘Wow, you seriously expect me to pay you? To make you an offer?’

‘I expect nothing, Ma’am,’ he said. ‘However, we should acknowledge that it is almost certain that this will be discovered by the press sooner or later. When that happens, what do you imagine will be more believable: that I walked away with nothing, or with the same amount of material support that I was already receiving?’

Selina pressed her lips together and glared at him.

Kent returned her look with a blankness that was almost insolent.

‘And if I say no?’ she asked. ‘Is this where you’re gonna tell me that I’ve got no leverage?’

Tap, tap, tap went the pencil on the desk. ‘You don’t have any,’ he said. ‘However, I’m not attempting to negotiate. I have no more desire to drag this out than you do. I have no more desire to have this become public than you do.’

Selina narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re not demanding half my shit?’

Kent snorted. ‘For what eventually amounted to a paper marriage intended purely to protect your reputation? No. That would unreasonable.’

‘Fucking ludicrous is what it would be,’ she retorted. ‘I’ll look into how much your _stipend_ is and I’ll think about it.’

He knew. He fucking _knew_ that any judge would award him _at least_ whatever she was paying him now. He knew and he wasn’t even bothering to pretend otherwise.

‘I’ll wait to hear from you,’ he said.

‘Yeah, you do that,’ Selina said.

It wasn’t a great line, and she was cursing herself for it all the way back to the Eisenhower building. Damn Kent. He knew exactly how to piss her off and the fucker never even seemed to try.

‘Amy,’ she said, walking into the bullpen. ‘A word.’

‘Ma’am we need to –’ Dan began.

‘Not now,’ Selina said, waving him off. She caught the look that Amy threw towards him, but ignored it. She was surrounded by children.

Amy trailed into the office after Selina, and shut the door. ‘Ma’am?’

‘How much are we paying Kent?’

Amy’s expression, often pinched, screwed up in consternation. ‘Pay him for what?’

Selina raised her eyebrows. ‘You know. For _that thing_ way back during the campaign.’

Amy’s eyes flicked from side to side. ‘The thing because of Josh the trainer? That should have stopped as soon as the divorce was finalised.’ Her knuckles whitened as her grip on the tablet tightened. ‘You didn’t divorce him? How did that happen? Why would you let that happen? Ma’am we need –’

Selina thumped her fist against the desk. ‘Yeah, thanks, Ames, I needed you to remind me about it _earlier_.’

Amy pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I will speak to Kent and –’

‘I just did that,’ Selina said. ‘Upside is, he’s willing to sign the papers.’

‘And the downside?’

‘Seems like all this while I have been paying him for the honour of his hand in marriage,’ Selina said sourly. ‘He would like that to continue.’

Amy’s mouth twisted in disgust. ‘Has he been taking lessons from Andrew?’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘Andrew would ask for half my net worth. Again.’

‘At least he’s not doing that,’ Amy said. ‘Probably. How much is he being paid right now?’

‘No fucking idea,’ Selina said. ‘You need to find that out.’

Amy nodded. ‘Okay.’ She brushed back a lock of her hair. ‘I would need access to you bank accounts in order to –’

Selina waved her hands. ‘Forget that. I’ll figure it out.’

***

It had made sense at the time. Jesus, it was the only thing that made sense at the time. Marrying Josh hadn’t been an option. She had her pride, screwing her thirty-year-old trainer was one thing, marrying was something else entirely. Even if he had actually managed to get a freaking divorce. She could’ve punched him in the nuts when he’d admitted that hey, he was _technically_ still married. Like technically married wasn’t the worst kind of married. She’d even asked Andrew to help her out, without explaining why, and his first question had been what was in it for him. Why’d she ever expected anything else from that self-absorbed, money-grubbing asshole?  

Kent had _of course_ been briskly, coldly, professional about the whole thing. She was pregnant, unmarried, and campaigning to be the vice president. There wasn’t enough time to find another running mate, even if that would have been desirable, and even then, they would have been slammed in the polls. She had to marry, quickly, and in seven months she would give birth “prematurely” with her husband by her side. Jesus, thank Christ that she hadn’t had to go through with that. They were just preparing to leak the news of her “private” wedding when half the campaign was struck down with food poisoning after a banquet in the backwoods. Selina hadn’t known even heard of listeriosis before, she sure as shit had no idea that it could lead to a miscarriage.

It had been one of the worst weeks of her life. If was a blur of pain and misery as she was repeatedly dragged away from her new best friend, the toilet, to plaster a smile on her sweat drenched face for the rubes and try not to collapse in a heap.

She knew when she lost the baby. She _knew_. While she was bent over the toilet, Kent had walked in with some piece of paper for her to sign, and he’d _known_. She could see her own knowledge reflected in his face.

He put his papers aside, poured her a glass of water, and sat on the floor beside her. He didn’t say anything. Just patted her hand and handed her the glass of water.

***

It didn’t take long for the lawyers to draw up the divorce papers. It gave her a strange twinge looking at them. Her first marriage had been a complete disaster and died with as much misery as it lived. A second marriage. A second divorce. It shouldn’t bother her. It wasn’t even fucking real. She and Kent hadn’t spent a single night together. Hell, the closest she came to fucking him was shaking his hand the first time they met. Not that admitting the marriage wasn’t consummated was an option. At best people would assume the truth. At worst, what? They’d be assuming she was gay or a kiddie fiddler. God knew what.

She should have left the divorce to the lawyers. That was what she paid them for. But Selina was never one for sitting and twiddling her extremities when she could be making things happen. So she took the papers and went to Kent’s house. She didn’t know what she was expecting. A Borg cube? A house boat? Instead it was just one of the houses off DuPont Circle. She was surprised he lived so close, but of course he didn’t have a family. He didn’t need a garden and he could run into work in the morning without worrying about makeup or feeding the kids or whatever. Not that Selina had ever worried about feeding Catherine. That was the point of having a housekeeper.

She knew people were watching when her car arrived. Even in D. C. people stopped when a power broker was... oh. Okay, now she’d got out of the car they’d stopped looking. Assholes. Didn’t they know how much more important a female vice president was than some random white guy? She was the future.

There was a cat in Kent’s window. A huge ginger cat. Okay, that was... Kent liking animals didn’t track. If he was going to have a pet then it should be like a robot ant or something. Maybe regular ants. Or spiders. She could definitely see Kent having a colony of tarantulas.

‘Why are you loitering outside my door and staring at my cat?’

Selina scowled at him. ‘Answered you own question: I’m communing with nature. Red in tooth and claw. All that shit.’

Kent raised an eyebrow. ‘My cats are indoor animals. The closest they have come to rending flesh is swatting the odd moth. They don’t even kill spiders.’

It was close enough to her own thoughts, just, to distract her. ‘Would you want them to kill spiders?’ she asked.

‘No, nor birds or small rodents,’ he said. ‘I was using an example of scale, not personal dislike.’

‘Good,’ Selina said. ‘You gonna let me in your house or do I have to wait around on the doorstep like the one hooker late to the stag party.’

He gave her a look of such genuine confusion that he almost seemed human. ‘I have no idea what that means.’

‘It means let me inside, you asshole.’

She had left Gary behind for good reason. He didn’t know anything about the whole marriage situation and she was damn sure if he found out now that she’d never hear the end of it.

The cat, and a black colleague, wandered over to Selina as Kent hung up her jacket.

‘What do they want?’ Selina asked.

‘To smell you,’ Kent said. ‘It’s how they say hello.’

Selina waited until the cats finished sniffing at her. ‘Yeah, hi. Neither of them grabbed my tits so it’s still better than meeting congress.’

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re not very familiar with cats?’

She shrugged as she wandered into the living room. ‘I was more of a pony girl growing up.’

‘Hmm.’

She turned and looked at him. ‘What was that about?’

‘What?’

‘That, the little noise. The noise like “of fucking course,” like there’s something wrong with fucking ponies. Not like that! Wipe that expression off your face.’

Instead he rolled his eyes. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

Selina walked over to the wall opposite the fireplace on and began looking at the photographs.

‘I brought the papers for you to sign.’ She saw him reflected in one of the photograph frames, frowning. ‘Divorce papers.’

‘Right.’

She plucked one of the photographs from the wall and turned to him. ‘Who’s this?’

He took it from her, glanced at it, and handed it back.

‘Aamira.’

‘Who’s her friend? Don’t tell me you’ve got a brother or something.’

‘Three brothers,’ he said. ‘Two sisters. Nonetheless, that’s irrelevant as the “friend” in the photograph is me.’

Selina squinted at him. ‘The groom?’

He didn’t react. ‘Yes.’

She stared at him. ‘You were married to that beauty queen looking girl?’

‘Yes,’ he said.

Selina put the photograph back. ‘You’re not gonna tell me that you have the picture up because you’re still in love with her.’

Kent down at the other end of the couch. ‘Very well.’

She poked his knee. ‘Huh?’

‘I won’t tell you that.’

‘You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?’

He shrugged. She noticed that shoulders were broader than she would have thought, and the short-sleeved t-shirt showed the definition in his arms. He was young in the photograph: clean shaven but with a mop of light brown hair. He was slimmer now, she’d guess, and obviously did more to stay fit than Pilates.

Selina looked away. ‘You gonna sign the papers or what?’

‘Or what.’

‘What?’

Kent scratched his eyebrow. ‘These are legal documents. It would be extremely foolish of me to sign them without consulting with my legal advisor.’

‘What, you don’t trust me?’

‘You’re a politician,’ Kent said, ‘and you’re divorcing me. Trusting you isn’t an option that a sane person would contemplate.’

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘If you’re gonna insult me then you could at least offer me a drink.’

Kent cocked her head as he regarded her. ‘I believe your preference is Scotch.’

‘Good memory,’ Selina admitted begrudgingly as he got up.

He crossed over to his small bar. ‘You threw a bottle at your former husband. I remember quite distinctly.’

‘Waste of good Scotch, Selina said.

‘Hence my clear memory of the event.’ Kent handed her a glass with a generous measure of whiskey in it.

‘You had no right to drag him along.’

‘You’re divorced,’ Kent said flatly. ‘Nobody wants to see an unmarried politician, particularly an attractive female one. Women find your attractiveness threatening and men find your independence threatening.’

Selina sipped her drink. ‘You know that you just called me attractive.’

He waved his hand. ‘Your face is relatively symmetrical, your features are within the norms considered culturally desirable, and your figure indicates a healthy ratio of fat to muscle.’

Selina snorted. ‘Trust you to make it about math.’

‘Everything is about math,’ he said.

‘Even divorcing what’s-her-face?’ Selina asked nodding at the photograph. ‘Because divorcing Andrew sure as fuck wasn’t.’

Kent pursed his lips. ‘Why do you assume I instigated the divorce?’

Selina shrugged as she sat back. ‘I guess because you didn’t divorce me. I figure you don’t want two failed marriages on your plate.’

‘You’re projecting,’ he said mildly.

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, how about because she’s Indian or something and those chicks don’t get divorces, they get divorced by some asshole who’s found some new chick half her age and twice as pretty.’

Kent sipped his drink. ‘Ignoring your racism, you can see I’m not living with anyone, let alone a much younger woman.’ He pointed at the photograph. ‘Why would I keep that if I had abandoned her for someone else?’

Selina shrugged. ‘Trophy? Or you realised that you’d fucked up.’

‘I’m not a serial killer,’ he protested. ‘I don’t keep trophies from women with whom I’ve been intimate.’

‘Sentences that I never thought I wanted to hear,’ Selina said. She swirled her drink around in her glass. ‘You did fuck up, then.’

Kent gave a small sigh. ‘We married too young. One should certainly not commit to another human being while the prefrontal cortex is still developing.’

‘How young were you?’

‘Nineteen,’ he said.

‘Jesus,’ Selina said. ‘Was she pregnant or did you just both hate your parents?’

Kent’s lips twitched slightly towards a smile. ‘She wasn’t pregnant but her parents did not like me and made that clear.’

‘Does it every time,’ she said. ‘When I was in college, even after college, I dated plenty of guys my mom hated. When she heard that I was dating Caleb she threatened to disinherit me.’

Kent winced. ‘My parents had no problem with Aamira’s race.’

Selina snorted. ‘Hey, I know that game. What was it they had a problem with?’

Kent rolled the glass between his palm. ‘They had an image of the relationships they wanted their children. A great many people do. They become invested in the image and it can be challenging when the reality doesn’t match up.’

‘You know what I just heard?’ she asked. ‘Blah, blah, I’m not telling you the problem.’

He took a sip of his whiskey. ‘Aamira was a particularly strongminded woman. My parents… They certainly didn’t expect women to be quiet and submissive. My mother certainly isn’t. However, they had an idea of how a strong woman would interact with her partner. Aamira didn’t meet it.’

Selina crossed her left leg over her right knee. Her shoe slipped from her foot and dangled from her toes. ‘She bossed you around?’

Kent tapped the rim of his glass with his thumb. ‘There’s something strange about the use of “bossed around.” It’s generally only used about those who we believe should be powerless. It’s not as gendered as “domineering” but the implication is the same.’

‘That’s a yes, huh?’

Kent shrugged. ‘Every relationship has a power balance. My parents felt that the power balance in our relationship wasn’t as healthy as they hoped for.’

Selina moved her foot in small circles. The shoe lingered on the verge of falling. ‘Just how whipped were you?’

He frowned. ‘I have no shame or embarrassment in being attracted to strong and capable women.’

Selina waggled her empty glass. ‘Can I get another?’

Kent nodded. ‘Sure.’ He emptied his glass and took hers. He walked over to the bar.

‘Is it like a kink or are you just a pussy?’ Selina asked.

‘This internalised misogyny of yours… it’s unfortunate,’ he said.

She waved her hand. ‘Hey, I am not a fucking misogynist!’

‘With respect, yes you are.’

Selina grabbed the glass from his hand. ‘Fuck you, I know what “with respect” means.’

‘It means that you say far worse say about women than almost any man I know,’ Kent said. ‘With the exception of Roger Furlong.’

She snorted. ‘I’m a fucking woman. I get to say whatever I want.’

‘And frequently do.’

Selina reached down to pull her shoe onto her foot. ‘You didn’t answer my question. Is being told what to do by a woman a kink thing for you?’

‘If you’re asking if I crave domination then the answer is no,’ Kent said. ‘From what I’ve read that particular fetish is much more common with men who in their general lives are domineering. The contrast is part of the pleasure.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘You’ve got that wrong. If you spend your life being responsible for fucking everything then what you really want more than anything is to spend a little time when you’re not. For someone else to make the decisions and look after you.’

Kent was quiet for a moment. ‘I can see how that would appeal.’ He shrugged. ‘I have no problem taking direction from a partner irrespective of whether I feel the weight of the world or not.’

Selina sipped her whiskey. ‘You’re about the weirdest fucking guy I know.’

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘Because I don’t feel the need to beat my chest about how manly I am?’

‘This is fucking D.C. Not hating women makes you like that… cat.’

Kent tilted his head. ‘Cat?’

‘You know. The photo of the cat walking in front of all the dogs?’

‘Ah. I’m familiar.’ He sipped his drink. ‘I’ve been called far worst.’  

‘Probably by your wife, right?’ Selina said.

‘I’m not Andrew,’ he said. ‘I never cheated and I didn’t spend our money on pyramid schemes and elaborate financial misbehaviour.’

‘You also never fucked me senseless.’ Selina pushed off her shoes and lifted up her legs onto the sofa.

‘Or at all,’ he said.

Selina dipped her finger into her whiskey and sucked the liquid from her finger. ‘You ever think about?’

He drank some whiskey and sat back in the chair. ‘Do I think about sex?’

‘Yeah.’

‘With you?’

‘Yeah.’

A pause. He sipped a little more whiskey. Smiled. ‘No.’

Selina gave a small smirk. ‘I don’t think about fucking you either. I don’t think about climbing on your lap and riding you at your desk.’

‘I don’t fantasize about making love on your sofa in your office,’ Kent said. ‘Certainly not about running my fingers along your calf, your knee, and your thigh.’

Selina stretched, arching her back. ‘I don’t sit in meetings imagining you ripping off my dress, pinning me down, and doing whatever you want with my helpless body.’

She thought he might look away. Lose his nerve. His eyes were dark in the lamp light. They seemed to be fixed on her.

‘I’m not thinking about carrying you upstairs to the bedroom and undressing you slowly,’ he said.

Selina sat up. ‘I’m not hoping you’ll tie me to your headboard with your belt.’

‘I’m not wondering if that silk scarf you’re wearing would do the job better,’ he said.

Selina unthreaded her scarf. ‘You have to be careful with silk,’ she said. ‘It can slip.’

‘I’m always careful.’

Selina stood up and swaggered across to him. ‘A girl might think you had some experience.’

‘A boy might say that he’s tried different things in his life,’ Kent said, standing up.

‘Is a boy indiscreet enough to tell a girl about them?’

‘No’

Selina unknotted his tie. ‘That was the right answer.’

***

His drapes had heavy tiebacks. They were thick silken threads woven into rope and with weighted ends. Kent took the tiebacks and used them to tie her to the bedposts. First, he pinned her to the bed and peeled off her clothes, slowly stripping her naked, then he tied her up. He loomed over her. One hand tangled in her hair.

‘This is what you want?’ he asked.

‘What’s this, Consent 101?’

‘If you like.’

Selina wrapped her legs around his waist. ‘Fuck me. I want it. Then when you’ve got your breath back you can spin me over, paddle my ass, and do me from behind.’

He kissed her, once, gently biting her lower lip before sliding down the bed. ‘I’ve always admired your work ethic.’

Selina closed her eyes. ‘That’s me. A work a-fucking-holic.’  

‘You are an inspiration to us all,’ Kent murmured, rolling his tongue around her nipples.

‘You can be rougher,’ she said, rubbing her foot against his calf. ‘I won’t break.’

His teeth grazed her breasts as his hands mapped her body.

‘Better,’ she muttered.

‘Perhaps I should have gagged you.’

‘Don’t make promises you’re not man enough to keep.’

He nibbled her stomach, gently but firmly bit the warm and yielding flesh. ‘Weaponised masculinity has never been anything but destructive.’

‘Men are fucking destructive,’ Selina groaned. His fingers in her groin now, circling _here_ , and caressing _there_.

‘Is that what you want?’ His voice rumbled against her skin.

She was squirming now, trying to push and rub up against him. Her feet were tangling in the sheets, kicking as the material wound around her ankles. ‘You can’t tell?’ she asked, her voice catching. ‘You _are_ a robot.’

‘Assumptions are dangerous.’ He sat up. ‘Especially in bed.’

‘Hey! What’re you doing?’ she demanded. ‘You don’t get to stop when I’m as wet as a lesbian at Ikea. Fuck me!’

He rolled his eyes as he opened a drawer. ‘Even you, especially you, should be willing to wait thirty seconds while I apply a prophylactic.’  

‘A what?’

He held up a condom.

‘Oh.’ She bit her lip as he slipped it on. ‘Why _especially_ me?’

‘One accidental pregnancy is unfortunate,’ he said raising her legs. ‘Two looks like carelessness,’ he said stroking her thighs. ‘Three...’ He entered her on three.

Selina grunted and threw back her head.

***

‘Would you like a green tea?’

Selina should have been rubbing the feeling back into her wrists. Instead she was staring vacantly at the ceiling and trying to slow her panting breaths.

‘Tea?’ she muttered.

‘I’m going to make one,’ Kent said. ‘Or I could get you a coffee.’

‘I miss smoking,’ Selina said. ‘Coffee please.’

She turned to watch him pull on sweatpants and leave the room. Shit. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and he wasn’t even breathing hard. She was really out of shape.

She heard a phone chime and ignored it. Her muscles had taken a vote that they were going to sleep and they weren’t being overruled by something as petty as her mind. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to just lie around enjoying the breathlessness, the thumping heart, and the pleasing soreness after sex.

She probably shouldn’t now. She should be checking her cell. Zooming from one disaster to the next. She trailed her fingers along her torso, exploring the small, tender dips in her skin where he had bitten her softy. She stroked her fingertips over the love bites, the burgeoning bruises, that she was sure were accidental.

The bedroom door opened.

‘That was quick, she said.

But it wasn’t him. It wasn’t anyone. The door opened and after a couple of seconds the ginger cat jumped up onto the bed.

‘Come to investigate, huh?’ Selina idly stroked the soft, fine fur. ‘Bet we were making all kinds of weird noises.’

The cat chirped. A strangely high-pitched sound for such a chunky, solid animal. It reminded her of Kent howling when she’d accidently hit him in the eye with her lipstick. She’d felt honestly bad about that, but sending her out to the morning shows as revenge was some bullshit.

She heard his step on the stairs. ‘You’re gonna be for it now,’ she said to the cat. ‘No cats on the bed.’ She started to snigger. ‘No pussies between the sheets.’

‘Please don’t harass my cat,’ Kent said. He was carrying a tray which is he put down on the dresser.

‘Your cat was harassing me,’ Selina said. She sat up and peered at the tray. ‘Did you make sandwiches?’

‘I was hungry.’

He gave her a mug of coffee and a plate of mixed sandwiches. They were chunky, made of thickly cut fresh bread, some with generous amount of cheese and sundried tomato, some chicken and pesto, and some with Mediterranean vegetables.

‘How the fuck are you single?’ Selina asked, juggling the plate of sandwiches and the cup of coffee.

Kent flinched. ‘Very droll.’

‘I wasn’t actually busting your ass,’ she said. ‘You’re not bad looking, you got a good job, decent house, and you’re pulling down good money. You fuck like a jackrabbit and even make a girl a snack afterwards. Even monsters like Roger Furlong can find someone so you should have no problem.’

Kent was quiet as he sipped his tea. ‘Roger has a great deal of confidence, even with women. He has a sort of... anti-charisma. He’s so terrible that some people, for some reason, find him fascinating.’

Selina swallowed a mouthful of food. ‘What, you’re single because you’re too shy to ask women out? Too socially awkward?’

‘That’s a gross simplification of a complex situation.’

Selina nodded. ‘I know this game. That means “yes” with bell and whistles.’

Kent pulled a face. ‘It was easier when I was younger.’

‘Ha! Sing me a song I don’t know,’ Selina said. ‘It was easier for everyone when they were younger. When things were perky and nothing ached.’

‘When hair grew where you expected it to rather than spouting randomly,’ Kent said.

Selina flipped back her hair. ‘You get that? You always look put together. Groomed.’

He shrugged. ‘You always appear _perky_.’

‘Not now I don’t.’ She leaned back against the headboard. ‘Good corsetry is a fucking miracle. I’m thinking of getting them raised. Refreshed.’

‘Your breasts?’ Kent checked.

‘Yeah. I upgraded them a few years back but they’re a little further south then I’d like.’

Kent frowned. ‘A slight drop appears more naturalistic. You don’t wish to be one of those women who appear to have glued a pair of balloons onto an ironing board.’

Selina almost choked on a sandwich. ‘Jesus! You have been spending too much time with Ben and Jonah.’

‘I don’t engage Jonah in conversation,’ Kent said.

‘Quit hanging around Ben, then,’ Selina said.

‘Would that I could,’ Kent said.

‘Do you think I need work?’ she asked.

He hesitated. ‘I don’t know answer you wish to have.’

She thumped his arm, but not enough to hurt. ‘The truth, obviously.’

‘It’s not obvious,’ Kent said. ‘You’re clearly seeking confirmation of the decision you have already made. I don’t know what that decision is. I have significant difficulty picking up on subtle social interactions.’

Selina sipped her coffee. ‘You’re not fucking help.’

Kent scratched his forehead. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, as you know, and I find your body extremely… rewarding. I don’t think that you need surgery. However, if it will increase your personal happiness then you should consider it.’

Selina cradled the cup between her hands. ‘You think I’m unhappy.’

Kent sighed. ‘That wasn’t the point I was making.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘Vice president is no job for anyone with vigour and ambition. It doesn’t suit you well.’

‘It’s the worst job in government,’ Selina said. ‘Fucking sanitation commissioner has more power.’ She blew out her cheeks. ‘Less sleeping with colleagues though.’

‘Probably.’ He scratched his eyebrow. ‘Less interest from the press.’

Selina sniggered. ‘I heard the _Washington Post_ was trying to profile you. Most staffers leap at the chance.’

‘As with dating, a positive result requires, to a large extent, deft social interaction,’ Kent said. ‘Too much warmth, too much eagerness, and one is labelled needy and desperate. Too little and one is labelled cold and remote. Hitting the sweet spot between the two is not something I have ever mastered. The choice, then, is between appearing desperate or aloof.’

Selina regarded him with a sliver of new respect. ‘Being robotic is a calculated choice.’

His shrug was brutally short and precise. ‘It has fewer negative connotations. Stoic efficiency still earns respect. Neediness invites mockery and derision.’

‘Better to be Sue than Mike,’ Selina suggested.

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘Infinitely.’

‘I get that,’ Selina said. ‘But you keep ducking the _Washington Post_ and they’re gonna think you’ve got something to hide.’

‘Such as a secret wife?’ Kent asked wryly.

Selina hit him with a pillow. ‘Gimmie a fucking break. Being married to me openly would get you all kinds of tail, and respect from the D.C. dinosaurs.’

‘Why would I wish to associate with anyone with so little moral or ethical fibre?’

‘Because you don’t fool me,’ Selina said. ‘You can pretend to be above photoshopping or using attack ads but I know.’

Kent sipped his tea. ‘What precisely is it that you claim to know?’

‘You’re just as dirty a fighter as I am,’ Selina said. ‘You pretend not to like swearing or getting rough but we both know you just pick your moments. You’re not some fucking goody-goody. You’re a street fighter who’s learned it’s safer to strike from the shadows than face your target directly.’

He didn’t say anything. He was making her nervous, studying her face intently.

‘You should probably check your cell,’ she said. ‘It sounds like its’ having a fucking heart attack.’

He glanced at it. ‘The _Washington Post_ ,’ he said.

‘Told you.’

‘Have you finished?’ Kent asked.

Selina scowled. ‘I wasn’t saying anything that isn’t true.’

Kent nodded. ‘Good to know, however I meant have you finished eating.’

‘Oh.’ She shoved the plate at him. ‘Yeah.’

‘I’ll be back momentarily.’

She waited until he left the room and picked up his cell. It was locked, which figured. He wouldn’t be Kent if he made things easy. She couldn’t even tell if he was pissed. He was _something_ , but Christ knew what.

Selina went to the bathroom. There was a cat door. Who the fuck did that? After a few seconds the other cat, the black one, walked in through the cat door, and jumped up on the bath next to Selina. The cat stared meaningfully at Selina.

‘Um, okay.’ She tentatively raised her hand and the cat pushed its face against it. ‘Friendly lunatic, aren’t you?’

Kent’s mirror was much too high for Selina to check her makeup in. That was fucking typical. Tall people had no consideration for normal people. There was a robe on the back of the door. Selina slipped into it. It was crazy long and it smelled of Kent. Jeez. What did that even mean? She wasn’t dating him. If he had a smell then Selina didn’t want to know what it was. This was just sex. It had been a couple years coming. A couple years of tension and okay, yeah, attraction. He was fuckable for all his emotionlessness. So she’d fucked him. Got it out of her system. It was meaningless.

Kent was back in the bedroom. He smiled slightly when she walked in.

‘That looks better on you,’ he said.

‘Everything looks better on me.’ She dropped the robe and watched his pupils dilate. He’d already seen her naked but he still wanted to see more.

‘You need a nap old timer, or are you ready for another round?’

‘Nothing more arousing than being addressed as old,’ he said dryly.

Selina straddled him. ‘Just helping get you in the right head space.’

‘To do what, be offended and throw you out?’ Kent asked. ‘Because…’

‘To quit pretending you’re a nice guy and mess me up in bed already.’

Kent put his arms around her waist. ‘You’re making a pretty significant assumption there.’

‘I know that you have me pegged as a raging egotist,’ she said. ‘And ever since you saw me screaming at Catherine during the campaign you wanted to put me over your knee and spank some sense into me.’

His shoulders dropped. ‘Amy told you.’

‘Amy? Amy was there?’ Selina asked. ‘Fucking Andrew told me that you’d got drunk together.’

Kent brushed a lock of her hair off her shoulder. ‘Hardly. I, Ben, Amy, and a few others had been working all day and night. We were exhausted and perhaps a little... irascible. I do remember Andrew walking through the room at one point.’

Selina snickered. ‘You were having a little bitch fest, huh?’

‘We were under a great deal of pressure.’

Selina tweaked his nipple. ‘Did you complain about Hughes?’

‘I admit nothing.’

‘Was it just me?’ she insisted.

‘No. Certainly not.’

She shrugged. ‘Then I don’t give a shit what you candy asses said. Except the part where you want to spank me.’

Kent nodded. ‘You do seem to have taken that to heart.’

Selina slid her hand into his crotch. ‘You gonna take it to hard.’

‘That’s an appalling pun.’ He took her wrists in his hand. ‘And it would be… impractical. Better to indulge your corporal punishment issue first.’

He stood and, in a fluid movement, moved Selina to the side so that when he sat he pulled her down and trapped her legs between his, making it impossible for her to get up or wiggle.

‘Holy shit,’ she said. ‘You’ve done that before.’

‘Should I let you up?’ he asked diffidently.

‘If we ever do this again we are gonna have to work on you taking charge more often,’ she said. ‘No. I want you to tell me I’m a fucking bitch. Slap my ass raw. Then shove me on the bed and take me roughly from behind.’

‘I’d like to do this again,’ he said after a moment.

Selina rolled her eyes. ‘Then stop talking and start... ugh!’

The palm of his hand had struck her ass, a sharp and stinging blow. She had expected him to pull back.

She was wrong.

***

Her feet kicked and her fists pounded the mattress. She was splayed out on the sheets, helpless to stop what was being done, entirely at his mercy...

As she sighed and her body relaxed she was faintly aware of him slowing and growing gentler. Right when she really was vulnerable he was increasingly careful and tender.

Pussy.

She didn’t say that. She didn’t say anything. It was effort enough to roll onto her side when he crashed down next to her. He was breathing hard, which made her feel better. Then he took her hand in his, which made her feel... weird. She definitely preferred being made a coffee and sandwiches as after play.

She napped for a while. Woke up when it was too uncomfortable to sleep on her back. Jesus, he’d done a real number on her ass.

‘I think I have carpal tunnel from slapping you,’ Kent said. His voice was slurred with sleep.

‘There’s plenty of people would queue for that injury.’ Selina said.

‘You’re not exactly disproving accusations of egotism there,’ Kent said.

‘Says the advisor who claims to be more important than the vice president,’ Selina retorted sitting up.

‘I don’t want to fight,’ he said quietly.

She turned to look at him. ‘That was barely banter, you big baby.’

Kent rubbed his face. ‘I’m not good at judging feedback.’

‘No fucking kidding.’ She put on the robe and wandered over to the windows. ‘I guess that’s why you had all the questions about if you should stop.’

She heard him turn on his cell. She reached to open the drapes.

‘Selina, don’t!’

Too late. Outside she saw a mass of reporters. She snapped the drapes shut.

‘Why the fuck is there a hundred reporters outside?’ she demanded. ‘What did you do?’

Kent had his head in his hands. ‘I married you.’

‘What?’

He looked at her. ‘It appears that’s why the _Washington Post_ wanted to profile me. They hope to achieve a “gotcha.” When I refused to comply, they printed the story of our marriage. They even have a copy of the license.’

Selina sank down on the bed. ‘Well we’re boned,’ she said. ‘What the fuck do we do now?’

 


End file.
